Deck the halls with holly.

By Thamasin Marsh

It will soon be Christmas again. In gardening terms that actually means very little, unless you have a vegetable patch or a plot on an allotment and you are busily forcing rhubarb and chicory into an unnaturally pale (but interesting) complexion.

You have or have not by now pruned to your heart’s content, massacred your roses with a brutal cut-back whilst considering the financial costs of the coming season of good will. When kindness returns to your heart, do wrap your borders (or patch where stuff grows) in a benevolent blanket of mulch, well rotted compost or leaf mould to keep it all snug over winter. This is an act of generosity, that more than repays itself in the coming spring.

There are two schools of thought on clearing up the garden for winter. The first says this is the time to clear it all up, stack garden furniture, wash out pots, get it all ship shape and in order, ready for next year. The other says: leave it well alone, retreat indoors and wait for clement weather in spring.

Professionally I do one, personally I do the other; or, to be slightly kinder to myself, I actually do a bit of both. Mentally I need a little order, I clear up what is blatantly annoying (right in front of the back door) and happily ignore the rest, on the premise that nature has been successfully managing winter for a long time, and that I’m providing food and shelter for the rest of my garden’s inhabitants.

Speaking of which, do – where it is safe from ravenous squirrels and cats – put out bird feeders for our feathered friends. Winter is long and hard for them and, unlike our well-adapted neighbourhood foxes, they do not have a plethora of fast food joints to choose from. I will refrain from suggesting target-practice on squirrels, as I have spent the last few mornings being highly impressed and amused by the antics of my own grey bandit as he undid the childproof lock to raid my Hackney compost bin. It wasn’t his dextrous stealing that impressed me, but his instance on putting the morsels he disapproved of on one side, and holding up the bits he approved of for me to see. Who is taming who? And am I supposed to feel chastised for not providing him with a balanced diet?

Bringing it back to the Christmas theme, this is actually a time not for garden work but for garden pleasure. Pick evergreen leaves such as holly (there are good berries this year, which in gardening lore is forecast of a hard winter), euonymus, laurel and anything that catches your beady eye to make wreaths. Ikea has thoughtfully provided this year wicker wreaths for us to wrap the foliage on with florist or gardening wire. Attach fir cones, or slices of orange, dried in a very low oven overnight with a red chilli or two for colour. Thin branches can be sprayed different colours and used to hang homemade biscuits from. Ikea, again, has packets of gingerbread hearts with holes handily placed to thread them as decorations with coloured ribbons, if that domestic moment has escaped you.

Best of all, that ivy that has been busily choking the guttering can be pulled down and wrapped around a fireplace or stair banisters, thereby achieving personal virtue for getting that job done at last, and bringing that symbol of winter solstice back into our homes. If you are having a designer moment, I have seen in a chi-chi interior shop, ivy sprayed glossy back with enamel spray paint, which looked very groovy.

On buying gifts for keen gardeners, I have a word of caution: there are some exceedingly ugly and pointless items for sale in garden centres. Nobody needs another bronze-effect snail or garden fairy, and very few of us can even find the organic jute garden twine let alone want an over priced holder for it. Unless you know exactly what your keen gardener wants, do not second-guess. Plants bought for someone else without their knowledge is similar to the keen husband buying lingerie for his wife: he wants her to want exotic red satin cami-knickers; she knows they are going to be damn uncomfortable, won’t fit under anything, and will require her to put on a pleased face. The rose you thought they may like, may have exactly the same effect.

What gardeners want is help, bulging muscle, enthusiasm, horticultural and design knowledge. If you can’t provide this yourself in a promissory note as a present, buy it in. Pay in advance for a session with a garden maintenance company in early-spring to do the hard work, or a garden design consultant to come and give relevant advice.

Failing that, crass as it may seem, book tokens are wonderful for buying that specialised book they have always wanted on magnolias. Or consider a subscription to a gardening magazine such as Gardens Illustrated, for voguish production values or The R.H.S publication, The Garden, for ultimate usefulness and a good armchair treat.

Happy Christmas and New Year.
Thamasin Marsh runs The Pleasure Gardens, a design company whose aim is to put the pleasure back into gardens.